MATURE READERS 18+
Genre: Romance, Suspense, Comedy, Mystery
Two blue hearts, both alike in bravery
In not-so-fair London, where we lay our scene
From gun crime to petty theft
Where family is blood and survival makes hands unclean
In this place, we find two hearts who should be foes
And yet, amidst the turmoil their love still grows
Misadventure abounds and the divide will bring them strife
But with luck, death doesn’t always mean an end to life.
Hearts of Blue is a standalone contemporary romance that tells the story of star-crossed lovers Karla Sheehan and Lee Cross, a police constable and the thief who steals her heart.
EXCERPTTony was about to throw some barb back at him when his radio went off with a call from dispatch. He stepped away so that he could talk to the person on the other end, thus leaving me alone with Lee, who leaned against the doorjamb and gave me a heated little look. “I have to say, I like you in uniform.”
“Oh, shut it.” I rolled my eyes. There was nothing attractive about my uniform. It was basically men’s clothing on a woman.
“I’m not lying. How’s about you come up to my room for a bit and I’ll show you how much I like it?” He paused, eyes flicking to the top of my head as he winked. “You can even leave your hat on.”
Completely against my own will, I snickered a laugh, folding my arms across my chest. “No thanks, Tom Jones.”
“I think you’ll find it was Randy Newman who penned the tune. Tom Jones did the cover,” Lee quipped.
I made a concerted effort to regain my professionalism and throw a bucket of cold water over his flirty banter. “When you see your brother, tell him to get himself down the nick to see me.”
“Fucking hell, Snap, you really are Ross Sheehan’s daughter. Growing up must have been shit for you.”
The empathy in his voice caught me off guard. I swallowed but didn’t say anything. Our gazes locked and held, something thick and unspoken passing between us. He took a step outside, past the threshold of his doorway and onto the street. I glanced down at the toes of my boots and back up again, a strand of hair falling from behind my ear. Lee’s hand reached out, as though he were about to tuck it back in, but then he froze before he could touch me. Touching a constable could technically be considered assault. And technically, I could arrest him for that. Maybe that’s why he stopped. Or maybe it was something else.
His eyes softened when he whispered, “If that cranky string of piss weren’t with you right now, it’d be a whole other ball game.”
I looked to Tony, who had just finished with his call. Lee turned and casually went back inside his house, closing the door softly behind him.
L.H. Cosway has a BA in English Literature and Greek and Roman Civilisation, and an MA in Postcolonial Literature. She lives in Dublin city. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favorite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books.
She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories.